


Are There Shrimp?

by L_A_Red94



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Buffy Speak, F/M, Female Friendships, If You Squint - Freeform, Some Lesbian subtext, Vaguely Defined Portals, idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_A_Red94/pseuds/L_A_Red94
Summary: When Buffy sees Glory's portal open, she means to sacrifice herself. This time, it's not about saving the world, or even the universe. It's about making sure her pain in the ass little sister can live, can do the hardest thing.She really means to die. She doesn't mean to wake up, aching everywhere, in a different world, facing a guy in the worst shirt she's ever seen in her life.But it feels like a second chance.





	1. Stupid Portals

It's too late. She turns, slowly, knowing already what she'll see.

And there it is. Blue white light flickers over the makeshift tower, over all of Sunnydale. And it's beautiful. Buffy stares, awed at what Dawn, her little, pain in the ass, sister, has created. It's bright and beautiful, and it's going to destroy the world. 

It's going to destroy every world.

Death is your gift. That's what the first slayer told her and she hadn't understood. Now, looking at the sunset beginning to tip the dying world, she understands.

Death is her gift.

"Be brave," she tells Dawn. She feels oddly peaceful, knowing what she has to do. "Live. For me."

And she's kissing her sister gently on the head, and turning, and running towards the end of the world. There's a demon emerging, but it won't last long.

The sun rises and she falls into hell.  
_  
The portal flickers across the sky for an hour before it finally opens, enough time for SHIELD operatives to swarm the small spot in the desert. The sky crackles white until finally, a huge, dark shape emerges. No avengers are on scene - just Agent Hill with a few dozen soldiers. It's enough to shoot down the - whatever the hell that thing was. But the portal remains open, with more coming through and she knows that they'll soon be outnumbered.

Until, all of a sudden, it stops. The light snaps off as suddenly as it arrives, and a young woman falls, almost gracefully, through the air to land in a crumpled heap in the dust.

Operatives surround her in seconds, but she's a threat to nobody, not lying, unconscious as she is. Hill finds a faint pulse and calls in paramedics. She has no idea who this woman is, but the money's good that she has something to do with the portal closing.

Fury is set to arrive in the next ten minutes. With any luck, he'll know what to do about the woman. In the meantime, she calls over some paramedics. She thinks she might want to thank this woman in person.  
_  
"Personally, I think you look great," Fury stares, mute, at a grinning Stark. The other man is not supposed to see him in his holiday clothes. "I mean, the floral is a bit much, but that shade of blue really screams 'I'm a stone cold spy directing America's largest intelligence agency'."

"You finished, Stark?" he asks, deadpan. In the background, even Romanoff struggles to keep a straight face. 

"I'm sure I could have Happy rustle up a matching eyepatch if you liked - he's surprisingly good at coordinating colours-"

"You're both here," Fury glares at a smirking Romanoff, "because of a threat to our security so great that it almost jeapordised the position of the entire planet."

"The portal." 

"That's right. A whole bunch of nasties started coming through that thing, and it took three squads maximum effort to take them down."

"The world's still here." Stark points out. "Whatever it was, doesn't seem like it was important enough to call us out here."

"And if it were up to me, I'd still be in Fiji," Fury snaps. "But we need to figure out how this happened, and whether it could happen again."

"Where do we start?" Romanoff asks before Stark can speak again.

"Just before the portal closed, a woman fell through," Fury tells her. "She looks human, and there's a chance she knows what's going on. We need to get her to talk."  
-  
When Buffy wakes up, her head is throbbing and her mouth tastes like sand. 

"Stupid portals," she mumbles, sitting up. She survived then. Relief breaks through her like a dam, but it's tinged with just a little disappointment. She was so sure earlier, on the tower. She was so sure of what she was meant to do.

"I agree," the voice beside her is dry, curious. She sits up and takes in her surroundings. She's in a large room of corrugated iron, like a makeshift military base. On a chair by her bed is a muscular black man. The shaved head and eyepatch should look intimidating, but the effect is a little spoiled by a shirt that Xander would consider a little loud.

"Who are you," she asks, swinging her legs over the bed. She feels thoroughly pummelled.

"Nick Fury," the man replies, eyeing her curiously. "You just fell a clear 20 feet through an otherworldly portal. How the hell are you able to stand?"

"I heal fast." Buffy rolls her shoulders and winces. She's been in worse shape after a fight, but shock's driven them from her mind, apparently. They've won, haven't they? She pummelled Glory into next Christmas, and closed the portal; It's over, right? "Bathroom?"

Fury points to a door on her left and watches her leave, a little dazed. The last person he knew to recover so quickly from those kinds of injury was a genetically enhanced super soldier. Are enhancements common in... where ever this girl comes from? 

The girl - woman - emerges a minute later from the bathroom. Her hair's a little neater and she's washed her face, but she looks just as beaten up and confused as before.

"So... Nick, was it?"

"Director Fury is fine." 

She lifts her eyebrows.

"Director? Military?"

"Government." He doesn't elaborate.

"And you seem unsurprised by the otherworldly portal?" It's half question, half statement.

"Not unsurprised," he corrects, "but I've seen similar things before. You're, what, an alien?"

She laughs at that one.

"I doubt it. I think... I think I'm from another dimension. In my world, where I fell, there was a small town."

"It's just desert out there," Fury informs her.

"The portal," she remembers the events of earlier - it's like they happened weeks ago, "I jumped through it. And ended up here."

"Parallel dimension?" Fury's no scientist, but he's seen one or two movies in his time. "That's where the portal leads?"

"The portal led everywhere," she corrects. "Every dimension. Mine, yours and everything else."

"How do you know this?" his eye narrows suspiciously. "And how many dimensions are there?"

"The second - I don't know. Hundreds? Thousands?" Buffy shrugs. "This one is probably the closest to mine, which is why I landed here. Are there shrimp?"

He hesitates, wondering if he misheard.

"Excuse me?" he asks at last.

"Shrimp?" the woman repeats. "The seafood? Does this world have them?"

"Ye-es..."

"Neat. There are lots of other dimensions, anyway. A few hundred of them are hell dimensions, which is why that portal was bad news."

"The creatures that came through - they were...?"

"Demons," she says it flippantly. "Or maybe aliens? I'm pretty sure they're real, too."

"They are," he tells her definitely. "I've never heard of a demon, though."

"You shock me," she deadpans. Buffy doesn't have the highest opinion of the government's ability to deal with the supernatural.

"You never answered my first question," Fury tells her. 

"I know." Buffy matches his stare. "And I'm not going to."

"This is serious," he growls, "I need to know if that thing will open again."

"It won't," she replies. "There's only a handful of people now who know how to open it again, and they're not gonna let it happen."

Fury stares at her, taken aback. 

"Who exactly are you?" he demands.

"Buffy Summers," is the reply. Then, as an after thought, she adds, "I'm the vampire slayer."

He hesitates, unsure of what to tackle first.

"Vampire?"

"They're real," she agrees. "So are demons, witches, aliens, homocidal gods..."

"I knew about those last two," Fury tells her. "And I've got my ear to the ground enough to know that any sightings of the first three would have been reported by now."

"In my experience, the government tends to wilfully ignore the things it doesn't understand."

"And in my experience, I've seen stranger things than demons which I sure as hell don't understand," Buffy and Fury look round to where the door is a little ajar. A middle aged man with dark, unkempt hair stands at the door. "The Director's summer ensemble, for example, baffles the imagination. A demon? I think we could handle that. We would know if vampires were on the prowl."

"Who's we?" Buffy's a little annoyed at the interruption.

"Buffy Summers, meet Tony Stark," Fury gestures for Tony to come in. "He's here to investigate the portal that brought you here."

"There's nothing to investigate," she replies shortly. "It was opened, now it's shut."

"And you're on the wrong side of it," Tony points out. Buffy looks away sharply.

"I know. But we can't reopen it. Even if we could, we'd be risking everything."

"What's everything?" 

"Every person in every dimension. Everything."

"Well..." Tony slips his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall, "that doesn't sound promising."

"Nope," Buffy sighs and sits down again, wincing. She's definitely cracked some ribs.

"I just wanna get things straight," Fury stands and wow is he tall. "You're a vampire slayer-"

"The vampire slayer.”

"And you come from another dimension-"

"One with shrimp."

"Through a portal which, if opened, will unleash hell on the entire universe,"

"The parts which aren't already in hell."

"And you refuse to tell us more about it." He looks very unimpressed.

"That's about it," she agrees with a blithe smile. "Your world is safe, Director. I just saved it."

"How?" Stark sounds curious. She sighs, uncomfortable.

"The portal needed blood to open. My blood. And my blood closed it again."

"Because you're the slayer?"

She considers this. It sounds plausible.

"Yes."

Fury sighs and turns to leave.

"Well, I'm glad you shut the thing, anyway," he acknowledges. "I have a lot of questions for you, Miss Summers. I hope you'll answer at least some of them."

And with that he leaves. Stark watches him go before turning to Buffy.

"So what's a slayer?"

She groans and flops back on the bed.  
-  
Thor listens silently to Fury's account of Buffy's story. He had been visiting Jane when the portal opened and had rushed to California as quickly as possible. 

"A portal to all dimensions?" he frowns. "But that is beyond the ken of mortals, as it should be."

"Not beyond hers, apparently," Fury retorted. "She seems to know all about it."

Thor paces, looking confused. 

"The girl claims to have fought with demons?" he asks. 

"That's right. Do they exist, or is she just insane?"

"Possibly both! Demons are certainly real, but Odin's grace keeps them from this planet. They are trapped in their own dimensions."

"Except that the walls between hell dimensions and her dimensions are a little thinner," Stark guesses. "She told me that she grew up on a hellmouth."

Thor looks surprised.

"A hellmouth, is it? Well then she is lucky to have made it this far."

"Maybe not lucky," Fury looks thoughtful. She healed so quickly from major injuries - almost as quick as Steve... "Thor, have you heard of The Slayer?"

The god stares at him, enlightenment dawning.

"Rumours only," he tells them. "Songs are sung of a world bordering hell, where ancient men imbibed a young girl with the essence of a demon. Each generation has its chosen one who is able to keep hell from their world." He pauses, deep in thought. "It is to this world that Glorificus was banished, twenty of your years ago..."

Apparently, it would be too much trouble to explain any of this, because Thor is already stalking towards Buffy's room.  
-  
Buffy steps out of the shower with a sigh of relief. It's been a rough few days, but cleanliness is next to hell-godliness, and she's already feeling a little better. These mysterious otherworldy government types even left her a bathrobe.

About to reevaluate her disdain for these people, she enters her room, and freezes. A dark haired woman in her early thirties sits by the bed, looking awkward. She stands immediately as Buffy walks in and barely represses her salute. A military type, then.

"Hi," Buffy feels a little awkward in her bathrobe, but she isn't sure that the other woman has even noticed.

"Buffy Summers?" the military chick meets her gaze squarely. "Maria Hill."

"Would that be 'Agent Hill'?"

"Yes ma'am, it would."

"Great," Buffy looks at the clothes she'd folded neatly on the bed and decides they'll have to be burned. What looks like weeks' worth of grime and blood are stamped into them.

"I can have some clean things sent up," Hill offers. "And food. Or you could come and eat with everyone else. It's really up to you."

"Thanks," Buffy begins to gently comb her hair. "You're kind of a life saver."

"So are you." Well. That's unexpected. Hill continues, "I was there when that portal opened. We fought the... demons? that came through. And - you closed it, didn't you? By jumping throught it?"

"Yeah," Buffy closes her eyes because she doesn't want to remember the look on Dawn's face before she jumped. "That was me."

"Well ma'am," Hill straightens a little and knocks off a neat salute that Riley would've been proud of. "I just wanted to say thank you. And it's an honour to have you with us."

She turns to leave.

"Buffy," she corrects her. Hill turns to look at her, confused. "I'm not really a ma'am. It's just Buffy."

Hill smiles.

"Well thank you, Buffy. I'll have clothes sent up for you right away."

And she leaves. 

For the first time since she got here, Buffy smiles.  
-  
When the door opens, she assumes that her clothes have arrived, and is a bit miffed to see a long-haired, armour clad warrior with a giant hammer march into her room.

"You are she, are you not? The one who slays?" he demands before she can even speak.

"Jeez - do you guys ever knock?"

"Well, are you she?"

Buffy rolls her eyes at him.

"The one who slays, and shops, and studies and occasionally even gets changed in the privacy of her own room."

He looks a little mollified at that.

"My apologies, Miss-"

"It's Buffy," she retorts. "Just Buffy. Miss Summers is my kid sister."

"Well then, Buffy-"

There's a polite knock at the door. Buffy yanks it open to see a tall, good looking man holding a pile of neatly folded clothes. She lets herself stare a little, because this guy is built.

"Miss Summers?" he asks. "I was asked to bring these-"

"Ah, Captain!" The warrior type looks delighted to see the new arrival. "It's been far too long-"

"Thank you," Buffy speaks over him firmly, taking the clothes from 'captain'. "Okay," she tells Blonde #1, "I'm gonna get changed now. I'll let you know when you can come back in."

Politely, but firmly, she ushers the two men from her room and sighs. This world certainly isn't boring, at least.  
-  
"So, who is she?" Steve asks as Thor paces impatiently. He had seen a very stressed out looking Private Roberts rushing up to deliver some clothes to a new arrival on top of, apparently, a million other things, so took them from her. He hadn't been expecting to see Thor in the strange woman's room, or for the god to look so frazzled.

"She is from another dimension of reality," Thor sounds surprisingly Tony like for a moment. "She arrived through a portal which would have undermined all life in every dimension as we know it. I suspect that it was her sacrifice which closed the portal."

Steve considers this for a moment.

"Oh. Alright then."  
-  
The door opens a full ten minutes later. Buffy Summers somehow looks even smaller when dressed in plain khakis, hair pulled into a pony tail. She's wearing the old sneakers she must have arrived in, and Steve makes a note to get her fitted with proper boots.

"You guys have a proper meeting room?" she asks as she emerges, cutting off Thor before he can begin. "There's a lot to go through, and that room's not really big enough for everyone."

"Who's everyone?" Steve asks, curious. 

"You tell me. I don't want to repeat this story to everyone with decent security clearance, so I'll say it once, in front of the people who need to know."

It's an order. Steve is sure that this young woman isn't military, but she speaks as though she expects to be obeyed. And he is, first and foremost, a soldier. 

"I'll find the Director," he tells her. "We can probably schedule an emergency meeting in an hour or so. Meanwhile, I think Thor has a few questions."

"Perfect," she smiles at him, and it's a very nice smile. "I'm Buffy, by the way."

"Cap - Steve." He almost blushes at how close he came to actually introducing himself to her as 'Captain America."

"Well thank you, Steve," she says.

He manages to refrain from saluting, but only just. Instead, he nods and walks away. He can't wait to hear this woman's story.

"And I suppose you'd better come in," she turns to Thor. 

The god sighs with relief.


	2. The New Avenger

"So, Glory took on human form," Fury sits at the conference table, eye fixed on Buffy.

"More or less," Buffy confirms. "Stronger than any human though - bitch packed a serious punch."

"And she wanted to open the portals which would send her home."

"Yes."

"I'm still confused about this whole portal thing," Dr Banner is a mild looking middle aged man, still handsome but with streaks of grey in his dark hair. "How exactly did she open it?"

Buffy curses inwardly. She is not going to bring Dawn into this, even if her sister is a world away.

"She needed The Key," Thor answers. "The oldest and most powerful of The Infinity Stones."

"Sounds like a New Wave band," Buffy mumbles. Tony chokes back a laugh.

"This is no joke. The Key has been lost to all the known peoples for generations now. It was on your world the whole time?"

She hesitates.

"The Key is safe," she confirms reluctantly. "It was used to open the portals, but I was able to close them. It's back in my world, and it's well guarded. Beyond that, I can't tell you."

He looks unsatisfied.

"You accomplished great feats of strength by defeating Glorificus," he tells her, "but The Key is beyond your understanding."

"I understand more than you'll ever know," she snaps. She likes Thor, but he's not getting this information out of her. "I've already taken down one god today - if you keep asking about this, I'll make it two."

He looks ready to retaliate when Steve intervenes.

"At any rate, this key thing is in another world," he points out, "which we can't get to. You're sure it's safe, Buffy?"

She nods, thinking of The Scoobies. 

"Positive."

"And Glory's out of the picture."

She can't help but smirk. Knocking Glory around with a hammer had been fun.

"Long gone by now, I'd say."

"Then we don't need to discuss it further."

He seems to direct this comment at Thor. The god nods reluctantly and settles back into his chair. 

"We're more or less up to date on your story, Buffy," Steve nods at her, "now I think it's time you knew ours."

"Okay," she looks around the table. Were they some sort of well funded Scooby gang? With Steve as the leader and Fury as the Giles?

"We're what's known as the Avengers Initiative," he continues. "When the world is under threat, we're the ones sent to deal with it."

"Which is why you all came here?"

"Earth's mightiest heroes," Tony sounds dimly amused. "I'm not used to having to introduce myself, actually."

Buffy feels a twinge of annoyance. How many times has she saved the world without getting a shred of recognition?

"So, do you all have superpowers?" she asks. Thor is a god, but what about the rest of them?

"Not exactly," Steve clarifies. "Natasha-" a deadly-looking, red haired woman, "trained as an assassin and spy. Clint-" a heavily muscled blonde man, "a special agent with a special skill in distance weapons. Tony's got this Iron Man suit which he uses to blow up buildings a lot. Vision's an A.I. uploaded into a powerful cybernetic body," the red skinned, machiney-dude nods courteously, "Wanda...” a very young woman with long brown hair “Honestly, I don't have a clue what her power is. No offence.”

“I project energy to warp reality,” she supplies politely.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles uncertainly. “That.”

Buffy doesn't hide her smirk.

“And what about you, captain?”

And yeah, she's dated a captain before and so maybe she finds the title just sexy enough to flirt with it a little. And the guy honest-to-god blushes at her. What's the word? Teutonic?

“I'm, er, a genetically enhanced super soldier."

This last part comes out as a bit of a mumble. Buffy raises her eyebrows. Somebody doesn't like talking about their powers.

"And Dr Banner's the brains of the operation?" she asks.

"That's right," Natasha agrees. "But he also turns into a giant green rage monster when he's angry."

No it's Banner's turn to look embarrassed.

"Experiment gone wrong," he says.

"Okay..." she's beginning to piece together what they were saying, but wants to hear it from the man himself.

Fury shifts forwards.

"We're telling you this, Miss Summers, because our world came very close to ending today, until you stopped it. There's a lot to go through, and we can't exactly run a background check, but we'd be honoured if you joined us."

Wow. That actually sounded sincere.

"You're serious," she stares at the Director. "I... You don't even know me."

"Well, you can't be any worse than Stark," Steve jokes. The other man casually flips him off. Buffy likes their dynamic, but they're still so military.

"You are the Slayer," Thor points out. "Your deeds and legacy are well known among my people. Side by side with the Avengers, we would reign blood and terror upon those who oppose us."

She's not sure what to say to that, so she turns to Fury instead.

"The last time I got involved in a military demon-fighting squad, it really didn't end well," she explains. "The attempts to kill me were pretty laughable, but then they unleashed this all-powerful muderbot thing..." she shakes her head. Adam really hadn't been fun to fight.

"Well, the last time we unleashed an all powerful murderbot, we managed to stop it," Tony shrugs. "And we probably wouldn't try to kill you."

The others nod in agreement and Buffy struggles not to laugh. 

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Then it is decided!" Thor, apparently, is good at being threatened, because he hasn't taken much offence. "The small blonde one shall join our numbers!"

Buffy considers arguing a bit more, and stops herself. She's alone in a new world, without her friends, her sister or her watcher. What else is there for her here?

-

Buffy ends the debriefing almost as suddenly as she called it, dismissing the group neatly like a seasoned general. It might have been funny, watching a tiny blonde girl in her early twenties give commands to a group of supersoldiers, spies, a god and Tony Stark, except that they all more or less fell in line. Even Fury only put up a token show of disobedience. Buffy has been in this world for less than a day and has already taken a de jure command of the most elite force in the world.

And Steve is perfectly torn between alarm and a profound urge to buy her flowers. It was really, really nice to see somebody shut up Tony Stark for once. The billionaire is getting some payback, making the decision not to warn Buffy about the quinjet until it takes off.

In the control room, she looks fascinated, delighted. Steve can't help but smile at the look on her face as she turned to take it in. It's beyond refreshing to see somebody else in this world as overwhelmed by Stark's technology as he still is. And there' something so... so young looking about her now, something innocent and good that was conspicuously absent during her debriefing. The cool, efficient general is gone for now and what's left is... is Buffy.

“If you'd shown me this from the start, I'd have said yes without a debriefing,” she says to Fury. “This is how you show a girl a good time. And it's not even beneath some college frat house, so that's a big step up from my previous military experience.” 

That probably makes sense to somebody, he supposes generously. Fury, evidently, is thinking something similar.

“We aren't in the business of... college frat houses, Miss Summers.”

“Go figure. Most of them have dress codes.”

Steve has to fake a sneeze to hide his laughter. He's too polite to pick on Director Fury's bright blue holiday shirt, so unlike his usual dark leather, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate Buffy's humour.

Fury's eye narrows.

“Of course, the decision to have you permanently based as college campus security would ultimately be my own.”

Buffy winces.

“Got it, chief.”

Steve isn't fully conscious of watching the exchange a little dopily before he feels a light tug on his arm. Perplexed, he follows Natasha from the control room.

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” she tells him flatly. “Might wanna work on that.”

“Lovesick-?” He shakes his head. It was only six months ago that he said his goodbyes to Peggy before crashing in the ocean. And Buffy might be cute – and apparently quite tough – but he wasn't ready to move on from that. Not yet. “I barely know her!”

“Exactly,” Natasha's smile is a needle. “None of us do. I hope that she proves herself – that we're right to trust her. But in case we're wrong, don't rush into anything here.”

He bites back a defensive reply and actually thinks about what his teammate is saying. Natasha's a naturally suspicious person – that's her job afterall. While he and Thor and Bruce and Wanda all welcome a new arrival happily, Tony, Clint and Natasha will always be more reserved, more cautious. Even so, she's talking about giving Buffy a chance. That's it. No judgement, no undying loyalty and no unfounded accusations. Just hold back until we know more.

After a long moment, he nods his understanding.

“Thanks,” he says, wondering how long it would have taken him to put his guard up.

“Any time.”

-

Nobody comes to the Tinkerer's workshop. He was offered his choice of suites in the capital, large, fitted, luxurious, with some of the best view in Europe. But the room he prefers is small and simply furnished. It attaches to an airy workshop, all light wood and simple tools instead of a state of the art laboratory. 

And he tinkers here.

He doesn't know how bad the smell is. After days, weeks, of meals pushed under the door, of closed windows, of his latest experiment mewling in its cage, he's grown accustomed to it.

Nobody comes to his workshop – except her.

When he admits her, bobbing an odd little bow, she doesn't wrinkle her nose.

“Phineas,” she says courteously. That's another unusual thing about her. She doesn't call him Dr Mason to his face, or Tinkerer behind his back. It's always Phineas. Always as though she's a friend. “I've missed you these last few weeks.”

“Apologies, Madam President,” he says in his high, scratchy voice. If the president's natural state is cool nonchalance, then his is high wired, frantic energy. “My experiments keep my mind, most days...”

His translation is rough, but he knows better than to request shifting the conversation to English, even if the president speaks the language like a native. 

“Of course. Your progress is satisfactory?”

He pulls a dark cover from the cage and shows her. He has no way of knowing about the smell. It doesn't seem to bother the president.

“I'll be soon ready for test subjects human,” he says with his cold little smile. In its cage, the creature moans.

“Fascinating,” the president breathes, stretching out a hand. Her implants click and whir as she moves. The Tinkerer can remove those sounds, he's sure. A few weeks, his simple toolkit and his infinitely complex mind, and he can fix it. 

“Your timing is impeccable, Phineas,” she continues. In its cage, the creature writhes and spits, trying desperately to get at the hand, just out of reach. The president lets it linger, apparently enjoying its struggles. “We have just procured the perfect test subject for you. When you are ready, it will be brought down for you.”

The creature is slamming itself against the cage now. The Tinkerer wonders if it will break its back in an effort to get at that outstretched hand. The president appears to be wondering the same thing. After a moment, however, she straightens and adjusts her pressed suit.

“Thank you for your time, Phineas,” she says crisply. The Tinkerer bows again, eager, excited.

“Madam President, the honour is mine,” he assures her. She inclines her head graciously.

“I will have your new subject brought to you within the week.”

The Tinkerer watches her leave the room – quick, efficient strides – and smiles. His creature screeches at him until his covers its cage again. On one bench, a deactivated Sentinel lies waiting for deconstruction. 

He'll make it better. He has yet to find something he can't improve on.

-

She's restless. Less than a day since her showdown with Glory, and she's already itching to fight. To hunt. No... To slay. 

It's just gone 12. She's officially been in this world for six hours. She can't even remember the last time she slept. She spent the entire night battling a god and then jumping through a portal she thought would kill her, and she's pretty sure she'd gotten in a bit of slaying outside the Bronze before that even went down. She should be exhausted. 

Instead, she's wired. Twitchy. She wants to fight something.

“Hey,” she hasn't really spoken to Clint yet, not since their introduction. “Is there a training room on this thing?”

Agent Barton smiles at her.

-

"You sure you're ready for this?" Steve asks. "You did fall 50 feet down a portal from another dimension earlier today."

Her bout with Clint didn't last long. He's agile and skilled, but he's also the first to admit that he's more useful at a distance. After some arm twisting, she'd managed to rope in Captain Rogers for a bout, and if there's a part of Buffy that gets a little horny when fighting attractive men, then maybe that's just an added bonus.

"I need to blow off some steam," she says. "So how do you want this to go, genetically enhanced super soldier? Weapons, rules? I can blindfold myself if you want?"

Steve smiles indulgently. 

"Let's say no weapons - or blindfolds - for now. Just a friendly bout, and we'll see how we measure up to each other."

Buffy likes his casual confidence that he'll beat her. She'll like the look of surprise on his face even better.

At first, they circle each other, eying each other up for weaknesses. Steve, as far as she can see, hasn't any. His stance is light, but solid, muscles moving with promise beneath plain khakis. She attacks first, swift kicks to the stomach and face. She's faster than he is, but he recovers surprisingly quickly, and slams a fist into her stomach. It winds her a little.

"You pulled that punch," she accuses.

“And you didn't?"

“No holding back, then?" 

In response, he aims a serious punch at her face. She dodges in time for it to clip her ear, and the force leaves her head ringing. Alright then, super boy can pack a punch. Buffy jumps back ahead of a kick aimed at her midrift and crouches low. She's at the peak of physical condition, perfectly balanced and ready to strike. This time, when Steve lunges forward she's able to nimble out the way easily, and punches him twice in the chest. 

He sinks to his knees, gasping.

“Oh crap!" She sees at once that it was too much for him, his skin greying slightly from the pain. "Sorry!"

"O-kay-" he gasps. Already, his breathing is evening out, and he waves away the medics. "I told you not to hold back."

"I didn't break anything, did I?"

“No, but my ego's a little bruised," he jokes. "Haven't taken a hit like that since before they experimented on me."

"Experiments?" She helps him to his feet and they leave the court. She's being seriously stared at by some military types. 

"There was a serum designed to create a super soldier," he explains. "I was the first subject."

"There's a whole army of you?" she asks, unnerved. Steve seems nice enough, but not everyone can handle so much power. She's seen that first hand.

"No. The doctor behind the research was assassinated before he could continue his experiments." He looks chagrinned. "I was the only success."

"That's pretty conveniant, Captain."

"Not for us," he grimaces. "Could have used a bit more muscle fighting HYDRA."

"Secret organisation?"

"Very secret, and very bad."

“Huh.”

She's had watchers and knights and the Initiative working against her. She finds herself empathising.

“You beat them?”

His face goes curiously drawn for a moment.

“Tell you what,” he says with a tight smile. “You'll know as soon as I do.”

-

Nick turns over the report slowly. 

He doesn't digitise his sensitive files. Not with Tony Stark on the boat.

“Bardas?” Maria asks, voice very quiet.

“Looks like it,” he passes her a picture. The woman they tried to assassinate has certainly seen better days, she thinks. Slabs of steel wire her jaw to her face, and according to the report, a sizeable portion of her body is now cybernetic. It's the eyes that stand out, though. Whatever injuries she sustained has left one eye bloodied, it pigment tinted scarlet. The other has been replaced by something mechanic, dark and unblinking.

“What the hell could they have been thinking?” she asks. 

SHIELD targeted Lucia Bardas back when she was simply the head of a major Easter European terrorist cell. Hell, she'd even launched attacks against the Latverian capital more than once. How could the people have ever voted for her?

“You don't think that Bardas can rig an election result?” Nick asks, sounding tired.

“Fair point.” 

She studies the files.

“We can apply sanctions,” she suggests. “Funding anti-American terror groups-”

“You think we've got a leg to stand on when it comes to funding terror groups, Agent Hill?” he asks. “Besides, this information wasn't exactly acquired legally.”

Hill drums her fingers on the table. She knows what Nick's testing for her. She knows who will be taking over as Director of SHIELD if something happens to him. 

But she needs to prove herself first.

“The Avengers are too loud,” she concludes. “We don't need Iron Man and Thor trashing up another city right now, and Captain America couldn't be less subtle if he tried.”

“Agreed.” 

Interfering in another sovereign nation? That will require delicacy.

“We should use Romanoff,” she says at last. “Liase, determine the damage, and then take out Bardas and whoever's making these weapons for her.”

“And if Romanoff is compromised?” 

An eye on her, testing her.

“If we can't do this delicately, then we'll do it the other way,” she decides. “Getting rid of Bardas is our priority now.”

It's an air of rigid, uncompromising confidence that she learned from watching him. It's either my way or my way, and the world needs to live with that.

“I'll debrief her,” Nick says, standing. 

That's it. No nod, no assurances. But she knew, with a small, relieved smile, that she'd passed the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But where's Sam and Rhodey?  
> I... ahaha  
> idek  
> I'm trying guys. Two chapters in, and this is already a gigantic sprawling mess I've no idea what to do with. And this is what happened to Joss Whedon only times, like, a million.  
> NEXT CHAPTER might feature Falcon and War Machine? I left Wanda and Vision out of the first draft, too.  
> New villains! Seriously, the Tinkerer is so fucking underated as a villain.  
> Er... Yeah. SHIELD hasn't fallen yet, I guess. This is all roughly after Age of Ultron, but I'm rejigging the order a bit so Nick Fury can still be in charge.  
> Okay. Two of seven chapters in, and I swear I won't let this ruin my life. 
> 
> Please comment and kudos if you want to see more!
> 
> xoxox


	3. Molly Ringwald's a What?

She goes another four rounds against Steve, ending up at 3:2 to her. She's fairly sure that she won at least one bout because of his reluctance to use his full strength against her, but she quickly knocks that out of him. 

Up next is Natasha Romanoff, who has near-Slayer speed, if not strength. It's a close thing, but Buffy manages to take her down. 

“Who's next?” she asks, stretching. It feels good to work her muscles, even if she's lost a bit of her edge due to tiredness. “Big green rage monster?”

“Not in an enclosed space,” Steve says. “You sure you don't need rest? Food?”

Natasha smirks.

“You don't need to mother hen her, Steve,” she says. “In this century, girls know how to fend for themselves.”

This century?

“How old are you?” she asks.

Steve raises his eyebrows. 

“I'm not sure a gentleman reveal information like that.”

“If you tell me yours I'll tell you mine.”

“Physical or emotional?”

“He's 96,” Natasha says, sounding bored. “His plane went down at the end of WW2 and he was found preserved a few years ago.”

“How do you like the 21st Century?” she asks. “Malls, clubs, Molly Ringwald...?”

“I, er, I haven't heard of that last one.”

“I guess she's a little dated now,” Buffy shrugs. “Wait... Is there a Molly Ringwald in the universe? There was a World War Two, so there must have been a Hitler... How does that work?”

“Yes, there's a Molly Ringwald,” Natasha tells her. “You mean the lightweight boxer, right?”

“The... huh?”

“Just won two Olympic Medals? We were actually considering recruitment...”

Buffy studies that calm, inscrutable face.

“You're messing with me.”

Natasha's smile is impossible to read.

“Am I?”

“Agent Romanoff,” a voice crackles over her microphone. “Report to the debriefing room.”

“On my way,” she says, and gives Buffy and Steve a finger wave. “See you soon.”

Buffy watches her go, blinking stupidly.

“That was a joke, wasn't it?” she asks Steve, who looks as nonplussed as she does. “About Molly Ringwald?”

“God's honest truth,” he assures her.

She considers this for a moment, then smiles.

“Asshole.”

Nobody agrees to fight her once Natasha leaves, though Clint offers to take her to the shooting range. She politely refuses. Guns and Buffy really don't mix. Instead, she makes her way to a living area and rumages in the fridge for a low fat yoghurt.

There's beer. Lots and lots of beer. A bottle of bourbon sits on the counter. And at the back of the fridge, some suspicious looking chicken wings. 

She closes the door, weirded out, when Tony enters the room.

“Bourbon's mine,” he says, “everything else is fair game.”

“Do you have anything solid?”

“Ugh... pretty sure there's some chicken in there.”

She thinks about the soggy chicken wings and wonders how long they've been there.

“Actually, I'm thinking of going vegetarian.”

Tony looks at her like she's a bizarre new species of animal. He looked considerably less surprised when she told him she was a vampire slayer.

“I think Jolly Green might keep some weird health food lying about.”

“He does,” Bruce joins them in time to hear his name mentioned. “The cupboard behind you – no to the left.”

She opens it and discovers a clandestine mini fridge stocked with green stuff. How very allegorical.

“I've found my favourite Avenger,” she says, grabbing a yogurt and a bag of carrot sticks. “Anything in here I shouldn't touch?”

“Stay away from the hummus,” Stark advises. “Messing with his chickpeas brings out the other guy, right Banner?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“Help yourself,” he says. “I keep my own fridge at the Tower, too. The others have this habit of storing takeout well after expiration date.”

She shudders at the thought and munches on a carrot stick.

“You all live together?” she asks.

“Not exactly,” Tony explains. “Most of these guys have their own place to stay – or dimension of reality, in Thor's case. But they have rooms at the tower for when we need to work together.”

“Like now?” she's confused. Surely she isn't important enough to get the entire team together.

“The last time a portal like that opened, an alien army invaded New York,” Bruce explains. “When we heard about another portal opening...”

“You all high-tailed it to the desert to check it out,” she concludes.

“Imagine our disappointment when somebody went ahead and saved the day without us,” Tony muses with a smile.

He pours some bourbon into a glass. The smell reminds her of Spike. Instead of disgust, she feels a little pang of home sickness. Spike was, if not a friend, then somebody she was used to being around. In a bizarre way, she even started to trust him. But he's locked away along with everyone else. Thinking about never seeing Dawn, or Giles, or Willow or Xander again... that's too big. Too much to process. But it suddenly hits her that Spike – pathetic creep that is – will never show up at her house at two in the morning looking for pawnable goods, will never bother her at the Bronze, offering her information in exchange for money. It was almost a weekly routine, and now it's stopped.

“Hello?” Tony waves a hand in front of her face. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she lies. “That smells gross.”

He smirks at her and tips it back. 

“Heard you kicked Cap's ass a couple times,” he says. 

“I've kicked lots of people's asses,” she shrugs. “It should be part of the prophecy, really. Into every generation is born a Slayer who has the power to kick the ass of the forces of darkness.”

“I like it,” Tony says. “It's got a ring of... what's the word, Bruce?”

“Gravitas?”

“Gravitas. I like it.”

Buffy just rolls her eyes and makes her way through her snack. It closes up the slightly hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, but does nothing to ease the throbbing in her chest.

“So what do you do when you're not saving the world from big glowy sky beams?” she asks to move the conversation away from her destiny.

“I work for Doctors Without Borders,” Bruce explains, fixing himself coffee. “Or at least I did before I got pulled back in.”

“I thought you were a physics type of doctor.”

“I'm, ah, both.”

Buffy blinks, suddenly self conscious.

“And I couldn't even get through college.”

It's not the truth, exactly, but she's so not getting onto the hell that has been this last year. 

“Well we can't all be geniuses,” Tony assures her modestly. “Two is more than enough for any team, right Banner?”

“I don't think I could stand another,” the doctor agrees, straight faced.

“Who's the second?” Buffy asks. “That robot guy?”

“Oh. Right.” Tony frowns. “I guess we already have a third. Well, I'm the second. First! I'm the first, the original-”

“Seriously?” Because no offense, but Tony Stark reminds her of a stupider brand of frat boy.

“Genius millionaire playboy inventor,” he tells her, smirking. “I invented half the technology on this plane.”

“Does that include the broken coffee machine?” She makes eye contact with Bruce, who's been struggling with the contraption for the better part of the conversation.

“Well...” he hesitates. “We can't all be perfect. It's these little touches that remind me I'm still human.”

It's just a joke. She doesn't respond as Tony gets up to tinker with the machine. Still human. It must be nice, she reflects, having that reminder. 

Any tension resulting from her sudden silence is alleviated, however, by Maria Hill's crisp voice over the tannoid.

“Arrival in twenty minutes.”

Buffy stands and stretches.

“New York, huh?” she asks, intrigued. 

“First time?” Tony asks, absorbed in his work.

Buffy smiles.

-

The tower they land on must dominate the skyline. Buffy heads straight for the building's edge to look out at the city view. She stares out, disturbed by the lack of end in sight. California has mountains, deserts. New York, on the other hand, just has more New York.

“Come on, blondie,” Tony calls to her. “You can get all wistful and brooding later.”

Making a mental note to exact payback for the blondie comment, she follows the group of superheroes and military through a set of doors into the Avengers tower.

“Where do you wanna stay?” Tony asks. “We can get you next to the pool, if you want.”

“Pool? Seriously?” She gapes at him, delighted. “Wait...”

It's taken her way too long to put it together, but...

“Do I get paid for being an Avenger? Is a New York shopping trip out of the question?”

“Ask Pep, my CEO,” he suggests. “She's always looking for shopping buddies. Wanda's scared of her and I'm pretty sure Natasha only owns that one outfit...”

“I am not afraid of her,” Wanda protests, but her voice is low as she does it. “Ms Potts is... a very efficient woman.”

“I like efficient,” Buffy reflects. “But only when it's paired with tasteful shoes.”

“Well, I'll introduce you when she gets back from making me even more outlandishly rich,” Tony promises her. “See if you can get her to buy one of those cute little maid outfits-”

Buffy pushes him over without missing a step. That was a Spike comment, and there's only one way to deal with Spike comments.

“You know,” Natasha says, pausing to help him to his feet, “I'm telling Pepper about all of this.”

Tony just winces.

-

That night, Buffy dreams of the first Slayer. She hovers in the rec room of the jet, so outdated and wrong next to Stark's technology, chalk and mud streaking over her face and arms. 

Buffy sits, legs crossed before her. She's wearing the jacket, pants and sweater that got trashed during her fight with Glory.

“We were wrong,” she says. “I didn't need to die.”

The first shakes her head, eratic, jagged motions. Dawn walks into the rec room to grab a bagel and peanut butter.

“It is your Gift,” her mouth doesn't move, but Buffy knows that whispery voice as well as her own. Dawn walks out of the kitchen, and a bright, gorgeous light shines through the open door. 

She knows what she has to do – stands, runs, jumps – 

She wakes with a groan and rolls over to check the time. 2:30.

Knowing that more sleep isn't on the table, she changes into her military clothes and decides to go hunting. 

It's weird, she reflects an hour as she wanders aimlessly about the city, the things she already misses. First Spike, and now vampires generally. Her patrols usually turn up at least two of the creatures - that's at least two decent fights. So far, all she's found is what had looked like a mugging and what was, on closer inspection, two very enthusiastic role players. They didn't seem to mind the interruption, strangely enough. Apparently it gave the scenario added realism. 

In a city this big, there has to be something nefarious going on. You can't move in LA without cult members trying to sacrifice you, and doesn't New York have one of the highest crime rates in the country? It occurs to her that the high risk areas probably aren't where major industries choose to build their premises.

"Come on," she mutters, restless. "Here I am, poor vulnerable little me. I know there are nasties out here."

There are. There has to be.

But none of them find her. 

Frustrated, she makes her way to Central Park, and finds a bench to sit on. Even in July, the night air in New York is crisp, fresh. She breathes in and waits for the dawn.


	4. BONUS CHAPTER: Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for desciptions of alcoholism, if that's an issue for anyone. Notes at the end.

Buffy woke up an hour ago and has been listlessly patrolling Central Park for most of it. In spite of her earlier assertions, this realm really does seem to be demon-free. Well, either that or vampires avoid festival season.

Back in the tower, Clint wakes with a start, half expecting cold feet to brush up against him. It's bizarre, occasionally aggravating and often endearing, but no matter what time of year it is, no matter how warm the room is and no matter how much exercise she does to improve her circulation, Laura always, always has cold feet. It got worst, he thinks, after she had their second child, but whether or not this is coincidence is unconfirmed. Regardless of the cause, to sleep in a bed with Laura is to wake up at some point in the night with her icy feet brushing your shins. 

But when Clint wakes tonight, it's not because of Laura's feet, or one of their children complaining about a nightmare. He wakes up and is once again alone in Stark tower. If Laura were here, if she had inadvertently woken him, he'd have rolled her gently onto her side and spooned her, kissing her shoulder and curling his legs up behind him to safety. When he wakes up alone, however, all he can do is roll onto his side and try to forget that he has nobody pressed against him, no one else's warmth to comfort him.

Steve doesn't sleep either. He isn't jittery or restless, and he certainly doesn't think about fighting vampires or of a body that should be beside him. Steve's problem, in contrast, is his bed. It's not uncomfortable. In fact, Tony Stark is obscenely wealthy and his ridiculous expenditures include some bizarre, high-tech mattresses which mold themselves to your body so it feels like you're sleeping on a friggin cloud. 

Steve, however, is used to his hard military cot when he isn't on missions and the ground when he is. Before that, in his pre-military days, his bed was more metal spring than fabric. That's how he sleeps – it's how he's comfortable. In Stark Tower, however, he suffocates under layers of expensive softness, and it feels so horribly unstable. Like he'll fall right through it if he lets himself drift off. Every time sleep beckons, he wakes up with a jolt of panic, so horribly and uncomfortably wrong on the mattress beneath him.

Tony, on the other hand, has spent his whole life in luxury. With the notable exception of one three-month period in Afghanistan, he has never spent a night away from a bed that would cost some people a month's rent. And while he misses Pepper terribly, he can still sleep comfortably without her. Their relationship is good, but not quite the embedded routine that Clint has with Laura. In spite of this, Tony doesn't sleep. 

Or rather he does sleep for a while, after half finishing his bottle of bourbon, which is currently lying shattered on the floor. But alcohol can only get you part of the way, and it has a nasty habit of pulling you awake in the middle of the night, nauseas and anxious, heart jack-hammering in your chest. Tony used to test himself, to go a night or two a week without drinking, but lately those sober days have started to spot out. A little after two, he wakes up shaking, and stumbles blindly to his en suite to retch up a belly of liquor.

He gets back to sleep shortly before dawn.

Vision understands that humans sleep, and occasionally sets a timer for himself to disconnect for the night to understand the process. It only gives him a partial picture. He has no memory of his disconnected periods, so he doesn't experience the mental respite a real human would feel. 

He doesn't bother tonight, and instead sits up and reads a paper copy of an old book. The experience, he finds, is quite unlike its electronic counterpart. He doesn't sleep, but for a few hours, he feels relaxed. Almost human. 

Most of the time, Bruce doesn't remember what the Other Guy does. It's really as though they're two unconnected people who share a body, to a certain degree. If he can't control his emotions, then he blacks out for a few hours and wakes up naked in a destructive heap. Occasionally though, maybe one night in a hundred, he dreams. In his dreams, a wild, furious energy grip him, and he feels buildings crumble in his hands like sand castles. Nights like this, he launches himself through the landscape, barely recognising what he sees because recognition takes language, and the Other Guy doesn't really understand language. He feels the rage and the excitement and the power and it doesn't horrify him.

Nights like tonight, he forces himself to remain awake, terrified of what his dreams mean. Terrified of feeling this way again.

Wanda wakes with a start from the same dream she's had every night since she was a child. Once, Pietro would race in to check up on her, pretending that her nightmares were the reason he woke. He would sit by her bed and they would talk and laugh to each other, reminiscing about their childhood, half-remembering the stories their parents would tell them before bed. Now, her eyes fix on the ceiling, unblinking. Some nights, she manages to push through it and get some rest. 

She doesn't think tonight will be among them.

Thor has always believed that sleep is best enjoyed after glorious battle, a hearty feast, a tankard or ten of mead and the company of a wench or two. To that end, he spends most of his nights on earth at Rico's, a dive bar in New Mexico where a god can reliably find at least three of the four. Of course, he has only one woman in his life and she has work tomorrow morning, so he has to leave the wench part out of the occasion, but when he goes to fiddle with the box of song, a hard looking biker gang member stumbles over him, spilling his drink. They make furious eye contact, and Thor smiles. Glorious battle indeed.

On a quiet, unmarked jet, stripped of luxuries and completely anonymous, Natasha doesn't even try to sleep. Instead, she sits, crammed and uncomfortable in the tiny bunk while the plane dips and veers and shakes, skimming through operation details. 

It's been a very long time since her last trip to Latveria.

In the middle of summer, the sun rises early. Buffy watches it grow out beyond the distant buildings, thinking of the last sunrise she watched. The cold has long since eaten through her thin khakis, but she doesn't move from her spot. Not yet.

There's early morning activity bubbling around her when she finally stands, aching everywhere, and walks back to the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what I should be doing!
> 
> I have no idea where this came from, but I realised there was no getting Chapter 4 finished tonight, so I just started writing. I stuck in the bit about Thor and Vision when I realised I was writing a downer chapter. I promise that my usual tonal consistency will return tomorrow!
> 
> Until then, thanks to people who've left comments/kudos - it's really motivational!
> 
> xoxox


End file.
